


Reeling

by Nymphcastle



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Lizzington - Freeform, Red/Lizzie, Romance, so much tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4044952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nymphcastle/pseuds/Nymphcastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying to pick up the pieces after the emotional fallout post finale, Red and Liz find themselves adjusting to their new dynamic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ~I own nothing from NBC's The Blacklist~
> 
> My little Lizzington shipping heart is going to be crushed when season 3 comes along and wrecks this imaginary story line for me, thank you for reading in advance!

The sun is warm on Liz’s cheek as she turns in the thick white comforter of the penthouse. She slept well finally, after days of dark cars and loud planes, being ushered into tiny rooms, various names and pictures printed out on documents. Red stood by her side, his hand finding hers whenever she felt like she couldn’t take another step forward. He led her through the darkest parts of their hasty exit. She takes her time rising from the bed, blinking slowly, her hair falling over her shoulder in thick waves. She looks down at the La Perla pajama set loosely clinging to her skin. Red had asked for clothes to be sent here for them. All too expensive, hardly any of them fitting her taste, but perhaps that was for the best. 

She needed to let go of Agent Elizabeth Keen. She had left that identity on a park bench. Tom Connolly’s blood staining her hands, reeling from the memory of her father falling to the ground, the way the gun kicked in her small hands. She shakes those feelings away quickly, tying the silk hotel robe around her waist before pushing the bedroom door open.   
Red turns, hearing the slight creak of a door. He sets his glass down, a small smile breaking through his lips. She looks rested, more like herself. 

“Good morning Lizzie” he offers a simple white mug towards her, his fingers brushing hers as she takes it with both hands, letting out a long sigh. “Did you sleep well”  
She nods in response, taking a long sip and glancing out the large glass doors leading to the main balcony. The coffee feels rich and warm as it fills her stomach, anchoring her back into place. Red looks at her, the way the sun bounces off of her hair, the way her eyelashes curl up, the slight part in her lips. She looks okay, even close to peaceful in this light. 

“How long are we here” she asks, her voice cracking, he takes a sip himself before stepping towards her. 

“Only today. I have to meet with an associate, a few loose ends that need my immediate attention” he laughs slightly, his teeth sparkling, “I’m out of reach for a few days and the earth falls apart without me” he shrugs slightly and sits on the couch, a blue vest unbuttoned around his torso.

“You should shower, get dressed, I can show you the best place to get a brisket sandwich, Texas is like an entirely different world. ” his voice is smooth and edgeless. She could use a shower, one that doesn’t smell of disinfectant and mold. Instead she stays on the couch, listening to Red watch the news as he finishes his second cup of coffee. Her body still aching, her brain still sore.   
…  
A tall, muscular man is waiting for them by the Mercedes. Red smiles deeply, a chuckle escaping his lips. 

“Mikhal, you look well” his voice is cheerful, the easy arrogance spilling off of his tongue. Liz finds it comforting, she shifts next to him. 

“Mr Reddington, Ms Keen” he nods, shaking Liz’s hand firmly, before allowing Red’s arm to drape around his shoulder, an address slipping out of his mouth. 

Mikhal opens the door, allowing Liz to slide inside, the air conditioning is a welcome change from the humid air outside. Red joins her a few moments later, she leaves her hand in the center seat, half hoping for it to be met with much stronger, larger fingers, but it isn’t and she sits in silence as he makes endless phone calls. She keeps track of all the cow fields they pass, the blurred lines between fields and city. She thinks about Cooper, how he’s probably laying on the couch, his head pain free, watching a game or making lunch with his wife. She pictures Aram, sat next to Ressler as they delve into the entirety of her history, her picture stuck to a board, a thick line drawn to Reddington’s face. Red keeps his eyes focused straight ahead, a small smirk resting on his lips. He can feel the heat of her body, radiating through a thin black tank top and simple white blazer. He can smell the coconut and vanilla shampoo from her hair, which falls over her shoulders in deep brown tendrils, if he turned to meet her blue eyes, it might give him away. The pleasure he finds in the pressure of her next to him, the enjoyment he gets out of small brushes of her hand against his as the car turns. He shouldn’t feel this way, he has destroyed her, he doesn’t get the right to want this, to want her, but he does. 

“Ah Lizzie, here it is.” He smiles widely as they pull into a large ranch home. Several horses roam a few feet from them behind a large white fence. Several chickens pluck at the grass near the car. Liz takes a deep breath, the smell of smoked meat and sweet sauce pouring into her nostrils. 

They take quick steps, the grass damp, the dew brushing her ankles as Red knocks on a heavy wooden door. A petite blonde woman answers, her hair teased high on her small head, her large eyes framed in several coats of black mascara. A smile breaks out on her face, two small dogs yap from across the house.   
“Raymond” she squeals. Wrapping her arms around him in a giddy hug. Her small feet smacking against the floor is happy steps as she kisses his cheek several times. “This must be Elizabeth! Come in, come in” she opens the door wider, her large white teeth overwhelming her tan face. 

“ Lizzie this is Amanda Palmer, a dear old friend” Red speaks through laughs, Liz extends her hand for a hand shake. 

“Oh no no, we’re huggers here” Amanda says loudly, wrapping her body around Liz’s. She can feel heat creeping up on her face and she returns the contact nervously. " Are you hungry, you must be hungry, how about some sweet tea?“ The three of them wander through the large house, stopping at a thick wooden table that looks homemade, Amanda steps into the kitchen briefly, leaving Red to sit across from Liz, he studies her unsure face. 

"She’s an arms dealer, if you’re trying to figure it out. Her late husband originally handled the business, he was a harsh man, didn’t have the people skills that his wife seems to carry in abundance…She makes the best potato salad” he speaks easily, taking a sip out of a mason jar glass. The tea tastes like pure sugar, it coasts her throat as she nods. She shouldn’t be surprised by anything, but as Amanda returns with a teal platter full of food she can’t help but scan her over, noticing a small pistol stuck between the band of her very blue jeans and her hip.

“Oh now, now Raymond, it isn’t quite the best. Came in second place for the fifth time this year” Amanda sighs heavily, a small frown visible for a millisecond before she serves a large plate in front of Liz. Two gigantic slices of brisket sizzle in front of her, a mountain of yellow potato salad, a roll that smells homemade and a pool of beans garnished with jalapenos threaten her mouth and stomach, she takes a bite slowly, her eyes closing against her will. 

“This is so good” the words escape her mouth quickly, Amanda and Red both smile. 

“Aw thank you, sweetheart. Now, Raymond, that shipment, with all of these unexpected changes…” Amanda trails off, Red wipes his mouth and takes another long sip of tea. 

“Absolutely” he says easily. “Margot will be in touch with you within the week to sort out the new routes, you shouldn’t run into any problems. The FBI was unaware of our arrangement and I intend to keep it that way” they smile at each other.

Liz stares down at the table, suddenly very aware that she is in a different role. No longer the handler, now the accomplice. The weight of it feels suffocating. She half listens to Red talk, the majority of her attention is on the sky, visible just outside the large bay windows. The clouds are changing in front of her, white masses of water and air, shifting around in the sky, blocking the sun, a few birds fly around, landing on trees. She can’t remember the last time she saw a sky so clearly.   
Red continues to gaze at the beautiful brunette as Amanda speaks. The way she nods along with the conversation, a vacancy growing behind her tired eyes. She’s going to lose it soon, maybe not tonight, possibly not even tomorrow, but eventually the dam inside of her will break, and she’ll feel everything. He knows how it goes, he’s been there. The day he looked at Naomi for the first time since he left, the hatred she held for him, the contempt behind her eyes, the angry haste she used when saying their daughters name in his presence. It burned worse than the fire, it scarred deeper than just his back. 

They leave Liz to tour the backyard, a large swing and garden framed by giant pecan trees.   
“The new builds are much better” Amanda speaks, unlocking a small shed, he can hear laughter coming from the ground. She opens a hatch and begins walking down thick metal steps. The workshop is stocked high with AR 15s and emergency supplies. Several thin men stand around, gun oil on their faces, cigarettes stuck between their lips. 

“Mama, Reddington” a familiar tan, angular face smiles through yellow teeth. Jeremy, Amanda’s oldest son. He serves as her head of operations, body guard, enforcer to his two younger brothers Andrew and Jonothan. They begin to take apart one of the 300 blackout builds on the counter, a smile perched on Amanda’s lips, pride leaking from her pores.   
….  
Liz watches a rabbit hop across the garden. She takes a seat on the stone bench next to a patch of sunflowers, several handmade signs poke out of the dirt. Tomatoes, Jalapenos, Cucumbers, various kinds of lettuce. She looks down at her hands, clear polish chipping off of her nails, the line from her wedding ring is fading faster than she imagined. She wonders where Tom, or Jacob, or whatever he’s called now, is. She pictures him on the boat, falling asleep to the beat of waves against the cabin. The smell of sea on his skin. She misses who he was, the school teacher, and trying to separate that person from the man who used her as a human shield is making her stomach ball up in knots. She turns just in time to see Red emerge from the shed, his easy laugh echoing off the walls. She lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, returns his warm smile with one of her own and stands. His hand grazes hers as they stand, side by side, she feels safe again. 

“Thank you Amanda, it was delightful as always” he kisses her overly made up cheek, pivoting on his heel, escorting Liz back to the car. He lets his hand slide over hers, feeling her fingers flex slightly, he allows himself this small wave of pleasure.

She doesn’t speak as they ride back to the hotel. He calls Dembe from Mikhal’s phone, discussing travel arrangements. Liz doesn’t move her hand until they pull back into the garage. She smiles at the concierge as she walks to the elevator, Red trailing behind her, his hands in his pockets, hat tipped over his forehead. The air is cool in the room, the sheets have been changed, the fridge restocked, the floors mopped. Liz removes her blazer, folding it over the large chair by the bedroom door. 

“Play some music” he nods to the bluetooth speakers in the corner “we could use something to distract out brains, and to drown out those damn seagulls” he rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner, pulling two wine glasses out of the stained wooden cabinets. 

Lump Sum by Bon Iver plays softly, filling the entire room with a soft acoustic rhythm. Liz picks up a glass, small bubbles rising to the top. 

“White wine? I figured you were allergic” she smiles, leaning against the counter, he was right, the music is a welcome change. 

“Sometimes life calls for an expensive moscato” they clink their glasses together, Red motions towards the balcony, the city is bustling underneath them, vibrant blue lights begin to twinkle in the glass buildings, the large bay visible just beyond the skyline. Liz takes a seat in one of the large, soft chairs, feeling the warmth on her shoulders. Red lights a cigar and sighs loudly, propping his feet against the iron gate. She looks at him, the lines around his eyes, the way the corners of his mouth naturally turns upward, the shape of his nose. All of these small details she hadn’t noticed before were suddenly clear to her, each fleck of skin standing out. 

“ you have a decision to make Lizzie” he begins to speak, turning to meet her eyes. “you can either run, or hide” his voice drops on the last word. He takes a sip of his wine and blinks several times. 

“Dembe has a list of my safest places, hidden corners of the world, you could be comfortable, safe, I’d have my best people at your disposal” he’s speaking quickly, the words moving so fast Liz can barely grasp them. She sits her glass down. 

“or” she interjects, eyes growing wide “if I don’t want to hide…” she maintains fierce eye contact, her fingers drumming against her thigh. 

“It would be the best option Lizzie” he reaches to touch her hand, but she pulls it away. 

“Who decides that Red, this is my decision, this is my life, I ran, I ran with you” Red flinches away from her words, the reality of them too much to swallow. He didn’t want her to run, he knew the risks of bringing her into his world, of inserting a foot into the door of her life, but he never wanted this, for her to be fleeing, to be sought after by more than he was used to. 

“If you don’t hide, you have to run, and you will always be running, you will never be comfortable or feel safe, you will change your name, your looks, you will be a criminal, with everything that carries” he’s almost angry now, not understanding how she could choose this above comfort and security. She’s just as angry, they’re a team, he chose her, he came into her life and offered his arm in the darkest corners of the past couple years and now this, to now jump ship. 

“I don’t want to hide, I want to feel free” she looks away, her face hot, a few stray tears burning her cheeks on their way down. Red watches the way they smack the pavement, he nods silently, enjoying the rest of the song before stubbing out his cigar and tossing it into the large turquoise ashtray.   
…  
Liz stands in the shower, allowing the water to run over her shoulder blades, falling down to her lower back. She takes deep breaths, allowing the steam to fill her nose as she lathers a lavender soap between her hands, scrubbing away the anxious sweat that has been covering her skin for close to a week. How dare Red, how dare he ask her to hide, to stay locked up in a safehouse like a fragile princess. Maybe he just doesn’t want her tagging along, having a former FBI agent is bad for business, but why bring her here, why not just set her on a plane to Croatia? She shuts the water off and steps out, wrapping the towel around her small figure, wiping the steam off of the mirror and sighing as she brushes her teeth.

Red is on the couch, a black tshirt clinging to his chest, a pair of plain slacks over his crossed legs. He looks up at Lizzie, her hair in a wet bun at the base of her neck, a pair of plain black pajama shorts fall mid thigh, and nothing but a white tank top wrapped around her torso. She’s still angry, he can see it in the slight squint of her eyes, the way her lips are pursed together. He smiles, trying to lighten the energy in the room. 

“Do you like Elvis” he asks brightly, nodding towards the television. “I’ve never cared much for movies but I’ve carried a soft spot for Blue Hawaii as long as I can remember, say what you will about the man, but he could charm a lady, perhaps a few gentleman” he chuckles to himself, rubbing his hand over his head, the stubble sharp against his palm. She relaxes a bit and shakes her head. 

“I’ve never seen it” she says flatly, taking a seat on the cushion beside his feet. 

“That is unacceptable.” his voice full of outrage. “We’re going to change that right now, how do you go your entire adult life so uncultured” he shakes his head as he speaks, sitting up straight. She leans against the couch, too tired to protest, her shoulder lightly lays against his ribs, his arm just above her head, he tries very hard not to suck in a deep breath, instead focusing on the vibrant dancing on the screen.   
…  
Liz awakes to the sound of bags being zipped. Red is standing in the doorway, a black hat on his head, a blue striped shirt and grey vest snug against his body, she shivers slightly, the blankets pushed off of her thighs, she kicks in her sleep, she hasn’t slept well enough for that to be a problem until now. She sits up quickly, her hair still damp in its tight bun. 

“We have to leave” Red says matter of factly, pulling his blue Prada coat over his shoulders. She nods, standing, crossing her arms in front of her chest, suddenly very aware just how could the room is. She pulls a pair of pencil cut Escada trousers, and a matching double button blazer off of the chair beside her. He can see her shadow from where he’s standing, the tank top rising off of her body, the curve of her back, he tries to turn away but can’t. He just stands there, mesmerized at the dim outline of her form, the valleys and hills of her ribs and hips. He turns just before she steps out, the click of her black pumps moving towards him. 

Mikhal drives them slowly, the roads deserted, a full three hours before the rest of the city wakes to begin their trek to work. Red imagines them, tossing in their beds, lovers by their sides, children sleeping soundly, tucked in tightly. Automatic coffee machines, cell phone chargers, briefcases stacked around the kitchen, he can smell their frozen waffles.

“where” Liz asks, her hands folded in her lap, her blue eyes focused on his face. 

“Argentina. You’ll love the mountains.” he turns away from her, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Liz and Mikhal discuss a book Red has never heard of the rest of the drive to the private airport. 

A tall and lean redhead stands at the steps to the jet, the length of her legs accentuated in a black Givenchy dress. She smiles warmly at the pair, shaking Mikhals hand before turning towards Red. 

“Everything is prepared to take off whenever you are, clothing and groceries have been arranged to meet you at 460 Loft, Dembe should be arriving within 24 hours of you” She looks at Liz briefly, then back at Reddington, “I may have to call Romero and let him know that you have a guest” she pauses just long enough for Red to laugh. 

“Margot, you’re excellent. No need to call Romero, I’ll work that out after a nights rest in a familiar bed.” He nudges Liz towards the steps. “I’ll assume you have the folders I asked for…” Liz doesn’t hear the end of his sentence. She is greeted by another redhead, this time shorter, with a round face and friendly eyes, she offers a cup of coffee, breakfast. Liz declines both and opts for a bottle of water and a seat towards the end of the cabin, shutting the blinds on the window and removing a book from her tan bag. 

Reddington joins her a few minutes later, sitting two rows across from her, flipping through several black folders. He looks up at her occasionally, her brow furrowed as she reads, her thumbnail between her front teeth. He looks back down at his folder, a list of identities laid out before him, he takes a sip of the whiskey in front of him and gets back to work.   
…  
The sun is already down by the time they exit the jet. A new Mercedes parked a few feet away, a new tall, muscular man is waiting for them, this time his hair is dark and his skin the color of caramel, he smiles enthusiastically. 

“Raymond” he hops as he walks, embracing Red warmly. Liz lets herself in the car, not curious as to what their relationship is, her head is pounding.   
“the regular, David” Red cheers, leaving the window down as he glides into the seat next to Liz. He yammers on about the mountains while she leans her head against the surprisingly cool glass, barely listening to his words. He can feel the space between them filling up, the rage in her veins heating with each mile they pass. He wants to feel her face, to smell her hair, to touch her hand, to anchor her back down to this moment, to keep her out of the past, but he can’t, he won’t. She deserves to scream, to let it boil over, so he just keeps talking.   
…  
Liz follows behind Red as people call them names she’s never heard, but vaguely remembers seeing on a couple documents from their first day. He smiles, charisma radiating from him, his charm burning brightly. They walk up three flights of stairs, her legs weakening with each step, the door to their room is a dark blue, four suitcases sit next to a large grey sofa, decorated in white pillows, a black rug covers the wooden floors just under their feet. She kicks off her shoes. Looking around confused. 

“It’s a loft, Lizzie.” he says, unbuttoning his vest. “You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch. God knows there are enough pillows.” she stares at the small set up. The kitchen and living room take up the majority of the space, a queen size bed is pushed to one corner, under a large window, she can see snow piling on the mountains. There is a door to a bathroom, it’s nearly the size of the rest of the room, with a large shower and vanity. She sighs heavily, shutting the door and turning the shower on. She doesn’t want to bathe, just to let the water rip away everything she’s feeling, but after 20 minutes the steam isn’t enough. 

She can see him, the blood pooling in his shirt, the way his body fell to the ground. She can smell the gunpowder and the metallic sting of blood filling her nostrils, she can see nothing but smoke and her fathers silhouette. 

“Red….Red” his name escapes her mouth is gasps, sobs wreck her body as she falls to the ground. The world is spinning, her ears are ringing. “please please please” her begs are violent whispers, she grabs a robe from the small closet, pushing the door open, falling to the ground. 

“Lizzie” he rushes to her, “Lizzie look at me” she collapses into his arms, her sobs turn to large silent whimpers. He rubs his thumbs in circles on the base of her neck. 

“I killed him” her words fall apart before escaping her mouth. He holds her tighter, his face laying against her wet hair. 

“It’s all going to be okay, Lizzie, it’s going to be okay” He helps her into the bed, stroking her face as she cries.

“Stay, please” she holds his arm as he begins to stand, sliding over to make room on the soft mattress.

“Elizabeth….you don’t, I…..” he tries to explain his hesitation, she tugs gently on his arm until he lowers himself, her head finds his chest, small tears still rolling down over her red cheeks. He lets his hand fall to the small of her back and tries to steady his own breathing, watching the stars through the large window.   
…  
He can hear her breathing settle, her breath warm against his chest. He wonders if she can feel his heart, hammering between his shirt and vest, if it’s vibrating her face. He begins to gently lean away, his hand guiding her head down to the pillow. Her eyes open quickly. 

“Stay” her hand finds his, she pulls him down, his face inches from hers. He studies her, the curve of her nose, the fullness of her pink lips. He can specks of grey in those blue eyes, the dark circles that have grown around them. 

“Lizzie, I can’t” he whispers, a small smirk appears on her mouth, she doesn’t let go of his hand.

“Why not” she looks at him through thick lashes as she speaks, the robe sliding off her shoulder, he licks his lips unintentionally. He hopes to blame it on the dry air. She lets go of his hand, sliding her palm to his chest. “you’re nervous”

“absolutely” he smiles slightly, his hand on top of hers. “I can’t do this.” he shakes his head as he speaks, looking above them at the sky, he’s imagined this moment for so long, but it feels too sharp, too painful. He can’t be her rebound, he can’t absorb those feelings and make her feel new. He cares too much, he feels too much. Her hand slides to his face, brushing the stubble of his cheek. 

“just stay.” she closes her eyes, pulling her body closer to his, the robe tugs away farther, he can see the smoothness of her collar bone, he should move, stand up and walk away, but he doesn’t. He lets the exhaustion take over, sleep pulls his eyes shut, and he lets his breathing fall in tune with hers


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little business, A little romance, An abundance of angst. Red and Lizzie adapt to Argentina, A familiar face joins them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Thank you for reading~

Liz is alone when she wakes. A crumpled body in soft cotton sheets, she can still smell Red on the pillow beside her head. The room is empty, she can see the snow falling outside the window. She shifts in the bed, stretching her legs out, her fists balled tightly, toes curling. The floor is colder than she expect, she pulls the robe around her tightly as she walks to the bathroom. Her face is swollen under her eyes from last night, her hair stuck to the sides of her head, flaring out in random directions, she’s glad she’s alone. There is a lot of work to be done here.  

She starts with another shower, scrubbing her skin raw with the honey ginger exfoliant sitting on the built in shelf, another small black jar sits beside it, pictures of mint and strawberries, after a close inspection she determines it to be an in shower moisturizer, she drenches herself in it, letting it soak into her flesh as she rinses her hair. She wraps the towel around her as she exits, wiping the mirror clear with her scarred palm. Better already. She dries her hair with the dryer under the sink counter before rummaging through the bags she had seen the night before. A black lace Cosabella bra catches her eye, the matching panties tucked delicately underneath. Judging by the rest of the style of clothing, she guesses that Margot was in charge of her clothing choices. They aren’t bad, most simple and elegant. Two folded bags hang in the closet. She plucks a black Elie Saab wool and leather peplum coat off of one hanger, laying it gently on the bed. She returns to the mirror, turning in a half circle to get a better look at her body. She’s lost a little weight while traveling, she’s thinner than she was in college, not filling out the bra the way she thought. She sighs, rummaging through her own bag for powdered foundation and mascara, a pale lipstick she’s had since she married Tom sits front and center of her makeup bag. She holds it for a minute, staring at the smoothness of it, remembering all the times she had kissed his lips while wearing it. Her wedding night, the way it left lines across his jaw. She tosses it in the trash, instead opting for a rosy pink. She pulls on a pair of wool lined skinny trousers and a white blouse before sliding into some nude pumps.  

…

She looks in the mirror once more, taking in a deep breath before pulling the jacket on over herself, grabbing an ID off the table.  

“Jane Rebecca Tyler” it feels odd coming from her mouth, and yet still more comfortable than Masha. She’s not even sure if she should grow attached to any of these aliases, if they’re merely for traveling purposes, it seems like an odd thing to ask Red. She shoves the card into her bag before stepping out of the door. She hadn’t pictured Bariloche when Red mentioned Argentina. She had envisioned warm air and blue water, instead she can see tourists with skiing gear making their way around the streets, families laughing, arms linked. A familiar face is visible just outside the main door to the building.  

“Elizabeth” Dembe’s voice soothes her fears for a moment. She feels a smile growing on her face. She’s never been so glad to see him, his dark suit covered in a black leather jacket. She thinks about hugging him, just to feel safe, she decides against it, instead picking up her pace to meet him by the street corner.  

“Raymond will want to know you’re awake. He should be returning soon” he speaks in his usual deep, steady tone, but a warmth is visible behind his eyes. He removes a cell phone from his pocket, pressing a singular button and holding it against his ear.  

“She’s here…..okay” he nods before ending the call and turning his attention back to the small woman in front of him. She sticks her hands in her pockets, looking up at the clear blue sky.  

“He wants us to meet him, it’ll only take a few minutes to drive” he nods at a black car and begins walking, Liz moving right behind him. He opens the back passenger side door, and she shakes her head.  

“I am capable of riding in the front” she sighs. Dembe shakes his head once, looking at her with a tilted head.  

“I must insist” he holds the door open wider, she slides in begrudgingly, watching the people walk past them hastily, their laughs echoing off the doors as they drive the 5 minutes to a small wooden coffee shop. She spots him from the car, a grey hat resting on his head, a thick black coat with fur lining the hood, he’s staring out into the crowd, sitting at a small table outside, two oversized coffee mugs sit in front of him. He smiles when she walks up, the sun hitting her eyes, the blue of them nearly blinding. He stands, embracing Dembe warmly, the comfort of his old friend feels like a cigar and warm whiskey.  

“Lizzie, you look….” he trails off, admiring her coat.  

“Ridiculous” she mutters, suddenly self conscious of the lipstick and leather sleeves. He shakes his head, laughing.  

“lovely, I was going to say lovely. You should compliment yourself more often, it will do wonders for that attitude” he motions towards the seat, taking a sip from his mug.  

“is there alcohol in this” she asks, sniffing the dark cautiously.  

“it’s early, even for me, however after the morning I’ve had, I could probably use something to dull the sting” he rubs his temples before removing his hat, looking her over once more. “How are you” his voice softens only slightly, his hand brushes hers, and she smiles.  

“I don’t know” the honesty surprises even her, he nods again, looking towards the crowd of people. Following a short, stocky man with a mop of dark brown hair.  

“Who is he” Liz asks, turning her head to watch, a small smirk rests upon Red’s lips as he returns his eyes to hers briefly.  

“Romero Flores.” disgust rests on his tongue as he furrows his brow. “A deplorable craftsman of snortable goods” Liz almosts asks what he has to do with Red, but she lets it go. These questions don’t need answers anymore. She’s not here to learn about Red, as much as she wants the rest of her questions answered. There is too much burning between them, so she just nods, watching the criminal charisma return to the broken man she saw last night.  

“Meet me for dinner tonight” Red asks quickly, avoiding her eyes. “Wear the dress in the closet. It suits you”  

“Is this business related” she asks quizzically, finishing the rich liquid in her mug. He shakes his head sharply.  

“I need a distraction, something for pleasure rather than this excruciating pain” he nods his head in Flores’ direction.  Liz agrees, staying a few more moments before leaving with Dembe.  

…

Red pays for their drinks and walks towards the crowd. Brushing against the drug dealer with light force.  

“Reddington” he laughs in a thick accent. “I feared you were going to back out on me, old friend” his voice is nasally and raw from too many product tests.  

“I assured you everything would be ready today, I am a man of my word” Red smiles, readjusting his hat as they turn a corner, a black BMW pulls up moments later, the windows jet black.  

“So I’ve heard” Romero opens the door, allowing Red to take the first seat. A large suitcase sits in the front seat, beside a large bull of a man, his arms nearly as wide as Red’s torso.  

“2 million, unmarked. You’ll get the other half once I’m certain these documents are what I require” Romero speaks, licking his lips every few words. Red nods, removing a black folder from his coat.  

“Everything you asked for” he crosses his arm impatiently as Romero flicks through the documents, nodding along as he reads. The driver closes the suitcase and hands it to Reddington.  

“Who’s the girl” Romero asks as Red exits the car, he turns on his heel, anger burning under his skin.  

“An associate” he says blankly “a pleasure to work with you Romero, I’ll expect the rest of my payment before tomorrow night” he walks way quickly, his hat hiding the defensive rage in his eyes.  

…

Liz looks down at the draped Lanvin cocktail dress clinging to her body as the doorman opens the large glass doors. Red is standing in the dimly lit room, a crisp black suit contrasting against the white tables. She smiles, taking his arm as he escorts her out to the gigantic patio, the view breathtaking. She gasps to herself, snow covered trees surrounding them.  

“The melon soup is wonderful, my personal favorite is the sixth course however, I’m a steak man” he smiles at her over the candles as the waiter pours two glasses of red wine. Liz takes a nervous sip, looking around in awe once more.  

“This is beautiful” she sighs, taking a tentative bite of the first course in front of her. Red’s smile never leaves his face.  

“I know” he takes a bite himself, he listens to her talk about the snow, the lightness in her voice makes him feel like he’s floating. He hates himself for it, for using her to soothe his own mental wounds. He failed her, he was supposed to avoid this very moment, she was never supposed to be here with him. He had a plan, a controlled plan, and he let it fall apart, because of her face, the need in her eyes, the warmth in her touch. He let her get under his skin, and he’s letting her right now, she doesn’t even know it.

“That was…..” Liz sighs as she takes her last bite of Hazelnut truffle, her eyes closing momentarily before she sits the silver fork down against the pale yellow napkin.  

“Orgasmic?” Red offers, raising his eyebrows slightly. She laughs, her head tilting back slightly.  

“I would go with delicious, but I guess that works too” She’s drunk, she finishes her fourth glass of wine, cheeks flushed as he leaves a generous tip, their arms linked as they exit.  

“We hope to see you again soon Mr Klein” The doorman nods as the pair saunter out to the street. Dembe pulls up a few seconds later, opening the door as a giggling Liz falls into the back seat.  

“I haven’t felt this relaxed since….” she stops her sentence short. They both know what she was going to say. Silence falls over the car.

…

Dembe waits outside as Red escorts Liz up the stairs, pausing a moment as she opens the door.  

“Goodnight Lizzie” his eyes meet hers, the heat on her cheeks radiating all the way to his own.  

“You’re not staying” she stops, one shoe off. He shakes his head, his lips dropping to a frown.  

“I’ll stay with Dembe a few miles away. Mikhal will be outside if you need anything.” he touches her arm before turning away.  

“Red…” she calls lowly, her eyes wide and bright “Just come in for a few minutes. Tonight was….I haven’t felt even a little okay, I’ve been dead inside for a week and I actually felt like myself for a brief moment, I don’t want that to end yet” she smiles sadly, kicking her other heel off, her height dropping, her head under his chin. She looks smaller, not just physically, her face is tired, sadness wrapped around her. He nods slowly, taking a breath before walking in behind her. He shuts the door as she pulls a bottle of water and two small pills out of the cabinet.  

He takes a seat on the couch, rubbing his hands on his thighs before looking up at her again.  

“Do you mind if I put music on” she asks, flicking through a small black ipod, he shakes his head, feeling the heaviness he had been avoiding all day.

“Go ahead” he unbuttons his jacket, leaning into the cushion as a slow melody fills the room.

_I will take over the blame this time ‘cause it was my fault and you were kind_

“I love Lucy Rose” she sighs, taking the seat next to him, watching  the breeze against the tree outside. “ I first heard her while I was at Quantico” he listens to her, the minutes ticking by, Dembe is probably tired, he should go, but her voice sounds like music all on its own.  

_‘cause now I’m searching for a reason to believe that I’m something_   
_'cause I don’t gamble like I use to but I still do things that I shouldn’t do_

She talks about her career, a welcome change from reminders that he failed her. It isn’t her fault, she can’t be aware of the hurricane inside of him, the guilt ripping him apart is hidden from her, under jokes and sarcasm. He looks at her closely, the small scar on her forehead, from the first day they met, the car wrecking. He smiles as she recalls the first time she made a successful profile. He can feel sleep beckoning him, he needs to leave, now, 5 minutes ago. The song is on repeat, the soothing tune of it keeping him glued to the couch. He has to be able to reach Romero in the morning, but she keeps talking and he can’t stop soaking in her words, letting them grab him and pull him down. She yawns heavily, her hand finding her head.  

“Lizzie…..I have to go” he speaks slowly, watching her blink, those thick lashes batting as she looks at him.  

“Okay” she stands, “Will you unzip me first, I can’t reach it, I had to ask Mikhal to help me before I got out of the car earlier, if humiliation meant anything to me anymore, I’m sure that would have been top of the list” she turns her back towards him, her shoulder blades smooth and warm, his fingers brush her skin as he slides the zipper down to her lower back, he can see her breathing increase, the clasps of her lace slip visible as she wiggles the dress down. He turns away, even thinks about running.  

She turns to face him before he has a chance. Her skin flush, she smiles again, her eyelids drooping from booze and exhaustion.  

_I will just leave, cause no more pain 'cause I brought this on and you were kind_

“Red” he can feel her voice on his cheek before he has time to react, his hands holding her arms as she lays her head on his chest, her skin against him.  

“Lizzie, I can’t, I won’t” he protests as she looks at him.  

“I’m not asking you to do anything Red, I’m just feeling” her words are loaded and aimed at his heart. He stays still for an entire minute before brushing her hair away from her face.  

“You need to sleep Elizabeth.” she nods as he speaks, “I really need to go” she nods again, her eyes closing, he lets his hand stay on her face, his eyes focused on her lips. He counts to ten mentally, she smells like strawberries and wine. His thumbs brush the sides of her face as her eyes flutter open, she moves towards him.  

“Lizzie….I” he stops speaking, moving his mouth to meet hers. Her mouth is so soft, their lips lock gently, he keeps his hands on her face, his own eyes closing for the briefest moment before he breaks the kiss, motioning her towards the bed. She collapses easily, pulling the blankets around herself.  

“Goodnight Red” her words slur. He watches her as he leaves, shutting the door silently before walking down the stairs, saying a prayer to every deity that she doesn’t remember, it would be easier that way, if not for her then for him.

****if not for her then for him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red takes care of a business relationship while Liz faces the reality of her current situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !Mild Violence!  
>  Thank you guys for reading, it's so much fun to develop this relationship and give them new situations.

"Don't" Red sighs as Dembe raises his eyebrows, opening the car door silently. They ride the eight miles to the downtown apartment. Red glancing out at the Rio Negro as they drive, his lips still humming with the taste of Liz's wine stained kiss. The concierge greets them happily as they take the elevator up to their full floor suite. He flicks the lights on, pushing through the large wooden door to a colorful bedroom. The attached bathroom is painted in a vibrant orange, giving him a slight headache. He undoes his suit slowly, imagining Lizzie wrapped tightly in her bed, that pale pink slip riding up her thigh, exposing smooth cream colored skin. He can feel his heart beating hard again, his hands weak, his will even weaker. It's good that he left, that he's here, but the smell of her perfume and the feel of her hands are strangling him. He takes a slow, warm shower, scrubbing himself raw with soap. He falls into the bed smelling like a burning for est , his eyes closing with regret and pain. 

…

Liz watches the people passing by her as she walks to the small bakery she had seen in the million of tourist pamphlets in the lobby of the lofts. She adjusts the pale blue scarf, letting it drape over the front of her Alexander Wang shirt, the sleeves are too long, she had to cuff them, but the fabric is soft and feels like cocoa butter on her skin. She hasn't worn jeans in so long, she forgot how much she loved them, and the pale gray suede boots are a welcome change for heels. She looks in the window, well aware of  Mikhal  hanging a few feet back, watching closely as she salivates over the Alfajores lined in various flavors. She brushes past several giggling teenagers to the counter, ordering 2 of the sweet cookies, one in chocolate, the other dulce de leche, and adds a spiced tea for good measure, taking a large bite as she walks out the door, Mikhal falls behind her again, this time on the phone. 

She wonders if  its  Red, if he's curious as to what she's doing. She stops at a small bench, sliding down onto it, licking to thick chocolate mousse off of her fingers and taking a swallow of the aromatic beverage, the cardboard cup reminds her of home. She kissed him last night , she touches her own lips absently as she remembers the hesitation in his. She can't think of an explanation to give him, she could blame it on the wine but he'd know better, she could say it was just to feel something but it wasn't. There wasn't a reason, his lips were there, and they were his, they felt nice, he was warm, he was sad and it felt right, but none of those are going to ease his worries, to soothe the wound she left in him when she shot T om Connolly. She was supposed to be his second chance and instead she is a reminder, that it is impossible to save anyone, that no one is really worth saving.  She chucks the bag of cookies into the trash can beside her, her appetite vanishing. 

" He wants to talk to you"  Mikhal  says quietly, handing a phone to her. She takes it, taking a deep breath before answering. 

"Lizzie" his voice is flat and hurried "you need to leave" 

Her face darkens, her palms begin to sweat even in the 15 degree weather. 

"Why?" her heart is thumping as she speaks. It's because she kissed him. She's ruined her chance at getting answers, for not being alone, for everything. 

"You just do, there, there are things I can't explain right now, but I will, later" he hangs up, leaving her to stand in the middle of the crowding people,  Mikhals  hand on her arm, guiding her towards the car. She can feel the reality again, growing around her head. She's always going to be running, from him, to him, those two things feel so similar lately. She slides into the leather seat, the baked goods swirling in her stomach, threatening to reappear in front of her. 

…

Red looks at the man in front of him, his nose bleeding, his eyes swollen. Dembe might have tied the ropes too tight around his torso , he can see the marks underneath his shirt, sheer with sweat. 

"Now tell me again Miguel, what exactly did he say, exact words this time, I don't care about your feelings on the matter" Red smiles as he speaks, taking a seat in front of the bleeding man. Dembe stands silently in the corner, his arms crossed as he stares at the scene in front of him"

"Mr Reddington, I....I was just sent to deliver a message" Miguel pleads. Red shakes his head. 

"If you aren't going to follow directions, what kind of conversation is this going to be" He touches Miguel's face before slamming another hard punch, this time he can hear the teeth rattle inside of his jaw. Blood runs down to his neck, Red smiles calmly, wiping his hands clean. 

"OKAY! okay" the man starts, spitting onto the ground "he said he knew who the little bitch was, he saw her picture, he knows you're tied to the FBI somehow, that it taints your services." Red sighs heavily, rubbing his temples. 

"You see, this is why I loathe drug smugglers, they're so narrow minded, they fail to think outside of their little white boxes" He stands up, pacing  around in front of the man, removing the Browning Hi-Power from his waistband, looking directly into Miguel's eyes, his face darkening with anger. 

"Where is he" his voice is a low growl, the gun pressed firmly against Miguel's forehead. The man whimpers slightly, muttering. "Speak up"

"the  store house , off the river...Please Mr Reddington" Red fires the gun, watching the man slump over. He turns, examining himself in the broken window of the abandoned factory he has found himself in. 

"I'm going to need a new suit before we handle the rest of this mess " he sighs, picking a  grey  fedora up off a small piece of broken wood, placing it on his head as he leaves with Dembe. 

…

"Where am I going" Liz asks, walking quickly behind  Mikhal , and the redhead she met previously, Margot. The latter turns on her impeccable black heels, raising an over arched eyebrow at her. 

"Spain" she states simply, her tone annoyed, her cheekbones sharper than usual. Liz nods angrily, her toes beginning to ache. Margot continues to speak to  Mikhal  in hurried whispers, a few phone numbers are passed between them. 

" Did you like the clothes" Margot asks, looking Liz up and down. "I see I got the sizes right"

"they were nice, are nice...I liked them, a lot of black and gray" Liz talks through a forced laugh, the lean redhead glares at her through glassy brown eyes. 

"I can have more waiting for you in Andalucia , do you have any designer preferences?" she asks, tossing her waist length locks over her shoulder, Liz thinks back to what she used to wear.

"um, J.Crew?" she whispers. Margot rolls her eyes, stopping in front of the jet. 

"So no." she gives a faux smile before extending her hand towards the stairs. "Fly safely" 

Liz chats with the lank brunette on the plane with her, he has a sweet voice and a collared violet shirt. He has two daughters, one is named Elizabeth, she lets him do most of the talking, her mind fighting memories of pink balloons and blood stained carpets. 

…

"Look at this mess" Red opens his arms, gesturing to the bloody and broken bodies surrounding Romero, who is on his knees, gasping for air. "what an inconvenience you've turned out to be, I should be eating a delicious platter of lamb and cheese, and instead I am here" He sighs, pursing his lips as Romero begins to crawl towards the gun laying across from him. Red lets his Ma gnanni  loafers press against the dying man's fingers. 

"Don't insult me, Romero. If I thought you were capable of shooting me this would be a much shorter meeting." He presses down harder, a scream escapes the thugs mouth as Red listens to the crunch of bone. "Now, who else have you damned with your ridiculous theory" He smiles, looking down. 

"No one" Romero gasps a few times as Red lets his foot off of his hand, he brings it to himself. "No one, I swear, your girlfriend is safe" he begins to curl into the fetal position. A chuckle escapes Red's lips as he nods. He points the gun at the man, firing twice before looking at the scared men in the corner, Dembe holding them at gunpoint. 

"Your previous employer owed me a considerable amount of money, we're going to extend that contract to you, I'll have someone in touch in the next few days" He smiles again, the men tremble as Dembe lowers the gun, following Red out of the blood stained house. 

"Oh Dembe,  I'm starving, let's find something to eat before the plane leaves" he sighs once inside the car, rubbing his temples. Liz's bright blue eyes in his head. He imagines her, on a plane of her own, scared perhaps, trying to figure out what has happened, why she had to leave. He wonders if she remembers the night before,  he lets himself feel the kiss again, the lightness of her lips against his, the feel of her hair against his nose as she fell onto the soft mattress. He continues the moment until Dembe pulls into a large café, they eat and laugh, but he can't shake the feeling of emptiness beside him. 

Margot is waiting for them at the air strip, a vaguely bored expression resting on her sharp features. She catches him up on where they'll be staying. A country villa in Malaga. She's made sure that Liz has a room made up for her, and clothing should be arranged prior to her arrival. He nods along. 

"Samar Navabi has made some headway in the matter you asked about" Margot sighs, flicking through her black cellphone. "I assured her that you would reach out as soon as you land" 

"wonderful, thank you Margot, what would I do without you" he smiles, kissing her cheek lovingly. She shakes her head. 

" find someone younger, with worse morals and better judg ment " he laughs at her wit, boarding the plane, Dembe stays behind for a few minutes. Leaving Red to once again to fight his feelings towards Liz alone. He takes off his hat, laying it on the table in front of him before leaning back, closing his eyes, letting the sleep win and letting Liz invade his dreams. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red struggles to understand his feelings towards Liz by the pool.

Liz flips through the closet attached to the large purple bedroom she had been shown after arriving at the large country villa. Two men stand outside the front doors, their firearms concealed, they smile at her warmly as she passes through the house, their dark sunglasses hiding their eyes. She turns on music and strips out of the now inappropriately heavy clothing, pulling out several pairs of shirts and light t shirts. She hasn't been anywhere this warm in so long, her skin basking in the glow pouring in from the large windows. She slides into a pair of scalloped shorts and a white v neck tank top, pulling her into a loose bun on top of her head. Her bare feet smack the tiled floors as she wanders down the large spiral stairs to the kitchen, opening a fridge stocked full of meats, cheeses, fresh veggies and fruits and expensive bottled sodas, she opts for a water and a few crisp green grapes. Is this how Red lives? No, it can't be, he doesn't stay long enough, but maybe the little tastes of this make the shacks and hostels worth it. She takes a long sip of water, pushing through the elegant glass doors leading to an extensive back patio, she can see fruit trees a few yards away, a sparkling waterfall pool directly in front of her. She climbs into one of the vibrant orange cushioned chairs and takes in a deep breath. 

When she arrived last night it was too dark to appreciate the beauty surrounding her. Now however, she never wants to leave. She could see the appeal of what Red had mentioned, of staying somewhere, for building a life where she could enjoy coffee outside every morning and swim in the evenings before sleeping to the sound of birds chirping softly, but she can't. She can't just stay here, hidden away in a beautiful bubble, she needs answers, she needs to know why  Reddington  is in her life, what danger awaits her, even if she's hidden, it doesn't just go away. She finishes her water and walks back inside, finding her way to the master suite downstairs. A thick brown comforter lays across the king size bed, a few books stacked on top of an antique desk, a box of cigars and a large tumbler sit beside the bed. She opens the drawer, a small satchel of first aid nec essities  sit atop a stack of condoms, she almost reads them but stops, zipping the satchel closed instead, continuing her tour into the attached bathroom. Tobacco and Vanille cologne sits on the marble counters, woodsy body washes line the bear claw tub. She looks through the closet, immaculately pressed suits hang  side by side, slide out drawers full of pressed and folded shirts, shoes line the floor, various shades of black and brown, a few grays stick out. She stops at the tallest shelf, several fedoras sit, arranged by color. She laughs to herself, picking up a black one and placing it on her head, it feels heavier than she expected, she sits it back and closes the door behind her, finding herself back in the living room, she turns on the large TV and curls up on the couch, letting her mind quiet as a reality show about Amish teenagers fills the room with sound. 

…

The house is silent except for the soft sound of water from the pool when Red arrives. He unbuttons his vest and folds it over his arm, leaning against the marble countered island in the kitchen. He pours a glass of water as Dembe excuses himself to his suite upstairs. They're both exhausted, mentally and physically. He takes long  sips  as he looks around. He remembers the first time he saw this house, or better yet, Mr Harris, a lonely widower from Georgia saw it, the yard is what sold it for him, the five bedrooms and pool an added bonus, but he can still remember the way the yard sang to him, the wind blowing in the trees, the grass soft against his shoes. He finishes his water and washes out the glass, laying in down on the drying rack beside the large basin sink.    


He sees her on the couch, her chest rising and falling as she sleeps.  He wonders if she's angry, or resigned to the reality of this arrangement. He debates brushing the few strands of hair that have escaped her bun and managed to find a new home against her forehead, deciding against it before continuing his walk to his bedroom. He removes his shoes while sitting on the bed, wincing slightly, one of those ridiculous drug runners managed a descent kick to his shin. He undoes his pants, admiring the large, slightly swollen purple bruise. He removes his shirt, folding the clothing neatly and setting them into the cotton hamper beside the bedroom door. He finds a simple black  tshirt  and lays himself to bed, crossing his hands on top of his chest. 

"Red?" he can hear her voice through the door, the soft smack of her feet against the tile, he can almost feel the curiosity rushing from her mouth. He stands, grabbing the dark blue robe from the chair beside him, tying it tightly before opening the door. 

"Lizzie. I didn't mean to wake you" he says, stifling a yawn. She looks at him, heat creeping up onto her neck. 

"Oh, no, I was waking up before you came in" she lies, she had only heard him shut the bedroom door, jolting her awake. " are you okay" she says as he winces, taking a step towards her. 

"I'll be fine.... would you like to come in" he opens the door wider, her heart skips a beat as she takes a step forwards. The room feels different with him in it, more personal. "I'm feeling like pasta tonight, is that okay with you"

"Oh, let me guess, you know an excellent little Italian bistro with the best view in town" she jokes, laughing at herself. Red smiles.

"I know a wonderful little recipe with the best meat sauce in the world" he laughs, stepping into the closet. She smiles, surprised. 

"Oh, I didn't know you could cook" he laughs at her statement from the closet, sliding into a dark shirt, buttoning it after adjusting a pair of plain black trousers. He rolls his sleeves up before walking back into the room, leaning against the bed. 

"I am an adult human being, I believe everyone should learn how to make at least one dish very well"  he smiles, slipping his shoes back on. "We'll need to go get a few things first" she nods with him, following his steps out the door before running up the stairs to change. 

…

"Where's Dembe" Liz asks quizzically, meeting Red at the steps. He admires her as she prances down towards the car, the Rebecca Minkoff shirt dress hugging her waist. He laughs again. 

"The man is exhausted Elizabeth, I'm fairly capable of buying groceries without him" he opens the passenger side door to the all black Range Rover. She slides into the seat. 

"and you can drive? I'm learning all kinds of new things" she says through a smile, a small brown crossbody bag laying in her lap. He gets into the driver's seat and adjusts the mirror. 

"Are you going to insult my abilities all night?" he asks, pulling out of the long, flower lined driveway. She shakes her head, letting her hand inch closer to his as he drives. By the time they pull into the market, his fingers are easily resting underneath hers on the gear shift. He opens her door, helping her down, the walk in, hands brushing each others as he grabs a small basket. She watches him speak to the butcher in long sentences, his hands waving about as he laughs. She stands by, a smile resting on her lips as she admires the various cuts of dried meat on display. Red returns with two small bricks wrapped tightly in butchers paper, he places them in the basket before spending 15 minutes gently touching tomatoes. She follows him, taking her time to absorb the chatter going on around her, they check out after he's filled the basket to the top with fresh produce and herbs. A woman is outside, with a large cart, SANGRIA is written at the top in messy letters.

"Shall we" Red asks, raising his eyebrows, they leave the food in the car and each order a small glass, sitting on the bench just off the street. People are yelling, laughing, falling over each other on the sidewalks. Liz takes a sip, the sweetness rolling around in her mouth. She looks over at Red, his face relaxed, his shoulders rolled slight back. He looks handsome. The black shirt brings out his eyes, the easy way he carries himself, he glances her way, a smile crossing his lips. 

"you look mischievous" he laughs, his hand running over the top of his head. "it looks good on you" They finish their drinks and head back to the car, Red hums along to a song she doesn't understand on the ride back to the house, she helps him carry in the large paper bags, which he folds and sets into a recycling bin under the sink. She watches his arms work as he slices and chops. Garlic and basil fill the kitchen quickly, tomatoes bubble in a pot on the stove as he adds in slices of red meat, his eyes meeting hers every once in a while. He talks about burnt dishes, Liz laugh s as she takes sips of her white wine, feeling almost normal. 

They sit across from each other at the large stone dining table. Red watches her as she takes the first bite, her eyes closing. 

"I told you" he says simply, smiling as she squints in his direction. He take a bite himself, keeping his eyes on her, the way her arms are resting at her sides, the way her hair is falling over her shoulders, the way the dress moves with her legs.

"Red?" he  looks up at her, her mouth parted lightly, a coy smile resting on her face. "What are you thinking about?"

"Venice" he lies, "The last time I was there I sat alone for hours, watching the entire city float on water in front of me, a man sat next to me, his skin worn and old and burned by the sun a few too many times, he looked miserable, but he just sat there humming 'you are my sunshine' not saying another word to me, one day I hope to be that peaceful" she's staring at him as he speaks, the slight crinkle in his eyes, the way he rolls his lips as he speaks, she takes another bite of the food in front of her before pushing the square orange plate away. 

"Do you swim?" she asks, her gaze moving on to the pool, the water sparkling under the moon. She thinks back to the white scalloped bikini neatly folded in the wooden drawers by the side of her bed. 

"No" he says blankly "But I could use a cigar and a nice view" he smiles, his eyebrows arching quickly. She can't tell if he's talking about the yard. 

...

The water is warmer than she had imagined. The temperature of a bath, the wind blowing against her shoulders as she comes up for air, she relishes in the feeling of weightlessness. She can see Red at the large glass table, smoke billowing up from his mouth as he talks on a phone, his head moving from side to side, his laugh echoes across the water,  she feels like she could float to him. 

The last time she went swimming was the day she graduated Quantico, for hours in the pool attached to her gym. She had spent hours doing endless laps, timing herself relentlessly, she was convinced that if she could manage a perfect, even time that it would seal her fate as an incredibl e  agent. She had never managed to get quite fast enough, a few seconds behind, she should have seen the sign there but didn't. Now she swims slowly, feeling her muscles flex and relax with long heavy strides. Sam had never really been interested in swimming when she was younger, she can vaguely remember begging him to go to pool parties, he would sigh and say he had to work, she can still see his apologetic smile if she thinks hard enough. She kicks her feet off the side of the pool and pushes through another lap before pulling up to the edge, resting her chin against the wet glossy blue tiles, looking at Reddington through heavy eyes. 

" those things will kill you, you know" she laughs, wrinkling her nose as he exhales another mouthful of pungent smoke. 

"Many things will kill me Lizzie, I don't waste time gambling on which one" he chuckles, finishing his cigar, avoiding looking at her, the water rolling off her shoulders, the sheerness of her bathing suit top, the way her hips roll in the water. He's doing a very bad job at ignoring all of these things. She pulls herself out of the pool, the strings resting right below her hip bones sway as she walks towards him, grabbing a pale blue towel off the chair next to him, wringing out her hair before sitting down. 

"You're uncharacteristically quiet" she states, her eyes almost pleading for him to return to the Raymond Reddington she had met in The Post Office, but he can't. He doesn't deserve to look at her in that light, to pretend that he isn't responsible for the inner turmoil inside of her, so he just nods, watching the water lap against the tiles, the waterfall pouring down with gusto. She shivers under the towel, her teeth chattering inside of her mouth. He takes a sip of the whiskey beside him. 

"Are you going to continue to pretend it never happened" she asks, a slight hint of annoyance in her airy voice. It catches him off guard, her eyes are smoky and unblinking as he looks her direction. 

"Lizzie, I don't think..." he starts, licking his lips and looking her directly in the eyes. "I don't think talking about a lapse in judg ment  on my part is going to do either one of us any good, I'm ashamed of myself, I should have left before it happened.  I sh ouldn't have put you in a situation where you felt that was the nature of our relationship" he sighs, meeting her glare, her face is warped, a mix between amused and enraged. 

"wow" her eyes drop to the ground, rising again, sharp and deadly as she stares him down. He wants to touch her, to hold her, the anger she can't even possibly understand because she hasn't stepped back yet, when she looks at everything that has happened, she will hate him, and it's so much better, easier for him that way. 

"Lizzie, I still...." he brushes his hand against hers as she flinches, standing as the towel drops to her feet, she's shivering, he can't decipher if  its  from the cold or the rage.

"What? Care about me? Go fuck yourself Reddington, you don't care about anyone, you try to, pretend you do, but the second someone might be an inconvenience to you, you squash them under your foot like a bug in one of the miserable hostels you call home" her head tilts, spit gathering in the corners of her mouth, he keeps his face locked, a vaguely hurt look written between his eyes. She turns, only wet footprints remain as she leaves. 

He stays outside for a while. His head aching as he thinks over what he said. Perhaps, ashamed was the wrong word to use when describing his feelings to her, but it was too late now. He takes his glass to the kitchen, washing it quietly, waiting to hear light footsteps coming down the steps, instead he's only greeted with silence and a dull migraine. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions come to a head, nothing can be undone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adult content, strong sexual themes towards the end of the chapter.   
> Thank you so much for reading!

She hasn't spoken to him much in the past two days, a vague acknowledgement as he comes and goes, he'll see her making a mug of tea before trailing off to the patio, a book in her hand and a side eyed hello as she passed through to go to bed. He can see her now, a pair of tapered sweatpants and a plain white Alexander Wang t shirt clinging to her skin with sweat, she takes a long sip of water before pushing the door open, wiping her forehead before sit ti ng  down. He waits a moment, to see if she 's going to gree t him, finding himself increasingly irritated with her behavior. She's behaving like a scorned school girl instead of the fiercely intelligent woman he knows her to be. 

"How was your run" he asks despite his feelings, tapping his fingers against the stone countertops. She looks up briefly, taking another large swallow of water. 

"Great" she responds in a monotone, her eyes fixated just past him. 

"Lizzie..." he begins,trying to look casually interested, "If you're going to insist on  pouting  around the house, I'll just find somewhere else to stay." she looks directly at him, a confused look resting on her face, she sighs heavily, dropping her water bottle on the counter before taking a few steps forward, leaving her arms crossed when she stops. 

"I'm not pouting, I'm not a thirteen year old girl" she smirks for a second, "or a coward" her last word is loaded as she pivots on the heel of her black tennis shoes. He almost retorts, but instead stays standing in the kitchen, watching her hips sway slightly as she walks up the stairs, he can hear the water begin running a few moments later. 

…

Liz can feel the sweat between her  clothes and her skin starting to itch. She peels her shirt off and tosses into the wicker hamper at the edge of the bathroom. It felt good to run again, to have nothing but nature around her. She thinks back on the little family of deer she encountered on her way back to the house, they way the stood around each other , protective and loving all at once. It reminded her of someone else, she shakes her head and finishes undressing before stepping into the shower. She uses a pomegranate scented scrub today, letting it scrape the entire day off of her in a few seconds. She gets out, opting to not use a towel, instead looking at the mirror. Her skin is tan, far more golden than it has ever been, she admires the glow off of her torso, her hair looks better too, smoother, and glossier from the sunshine. She smiles a little before sliding into a pair of black cuffed shorts and a white silk tank top, opting to not wear a bra, it's too hot to have underwire shoving into her ribs every few minutes. She lays down on the freshly made bed. Red has  house keepers , which shouldn't surprise her, the man doesn't even drive himself why would he do his own laundry, they're wonderful ladies, giggling and speaking in broken English, offering Liz tips on where to shop or run, the best past ries  in town. She closes her eyes for a minute. The anger returns as quickly as it left. The dull hum on her lips, she can still feel that stupid kiss. 

She wakes up without realizing she was ever asleep, the sky a pale orange, trickling in between the thick purple curtains on the window beside her, she stretches in the bed, her legs sore. The house is empty, aside from the men outside, ever present. She opens the fridge and removes a bottle of water and slams the door, hearing the glass bottles rattle inside before climbing onto the couch. As angry as she is, the house feels wrong without Red's presence and she finds herself upset that he didn't tell her that he was leaving. She wants to call Ressler, listen to him tell her to wisen up, to stop acting like a brat, but she can't. She'd never had any siblings, or close cousins or friends. When she met Ressler he was an asshole to her, questioning and blunt, eventually softening, becoming one of her closest friends, being an arm to lean on and a kick in the ass when he needed to be. She misses him despite knowing that if she ever sees him again, that she'll be running, or dying. She shivers at the thought, suddenly wishing her water was something stronger. 

…

Red returns to the house exhausted and cheerful. A few drinks with old associates makes him feel more like himself, he unbuttons his jacket and leaves it hanging on the hook by the front door, Dembe bids him goodnight and leaves to his room. He sits his hat on the kitchen island, a content sigh leaving his mouth as he kicks off his shoes, picking them up. There is a slight rustling on the couch, and the click of the  tv . He looks over to see Liz, wrapped in a small blanket. She gives him a light smile and runs her fingers through her dark hair. 

"Hello Lizzie" he greets her softly, she nods, motioning for him to join her. He slides onto the cushion next to her. 

"I'm sorry" she rubs her temples as she speaks, looking at him briefly before letting her shoulders relax. 

"You don't have to apologize" he lets his hand fall over hers. "I may have used words that didn't accurately describe what I meant" his thumb brushes hers a few times. She lets him,  her fingers responding lightly. Her body turns, still relaxed, the glow from the kitchen light illuminating her face. 

"I kissed you" she laughs lightly as she speaks, "It's my fault" 

"No." his face darkens, eyes suddenly dull, as if he's locked deep in a memory. She can feel him tense up beside her, she scoots closer on the cushion, her thigh resting against his. 

"I have to keep looking for answers Red" she lets her hand drift from underneath his, he nods. 

"I know" he touches her cheek, she leans into the pressure of his strong hands, "They aren't going to be pleasant answers, I want you to know that" his thumb brushes her jaw as he lets them drop away from her. 

"I know" her voice is merely a whisper now as she looks from his lips to his eyes. Here in the dark they strong and soft all at once, she can see the exhaustion, the defeat, the sadness hidden in the small smile that rests on his face permanently. She moves closer, he can feel her breath, warm and sweet, he lets his hands raise again, feeling the softness of her hair.

"Lizzie..." he begins to protest, but her lips meet his and he forgets everything. He can feel her breasts against his chest, her hips against his as their kiss deepens. He doesn't stop her this time, exploring her mouth with his own. His hands wander to her thighs, sliding until the fabric of her shorts stops him, she's breathing quickly, small breaths as their lips part for a second or two at a time. She tastes like mint and honey, her lips softer than anything he's ever felt on earth. Her paces quickens, small sighs escaping her mouth as he tightens his hands around her waist, she adjusts on top of him, eyebrows raising as she notices a distinct pressure underneath the black material of his trousers. He kisses her harder, her lower body moving in waves against his. 

His lips are strong, the stubble of his face rubbing against Liz's. She leans into him as his hands begin to explore, running between her shoulder blades, his thumbs on the back of her neck, she's never been kissed this way, with passion and skill. She shivers against her will under his touch. He breaks their kiss and she holds her breath, waiting for another speech about mistakes, instead he leaves small kisses on her neck as he speaks. 

"I can't fix everything, not this way, I need you to understand that" he looks at her, his fingers brushing her lower back, "This isn't going to erase what you're feeling" She nods, fully understanding. He's not the person for a rebound, he's not going to spill secrets as pillow talk, but she kisses him again anyway, this time he lifts her slightly. 

"Bedroom" he mumbles against her ear, his breath hot and sharp. She nods again, not wanting to move. They lean against the wall every few seconds to kiss as he pulls at her clothes, his hands finding her ass through her shorts, she pulls her shirt off, exposing her skin to the cool air, her lets his mouth wander, lips rolling against her breasts, her head falls backwards, a moan escaping her lips as he pushes the bedroom door open. She falls against the bed, he stands back for a moment, drinking in the reality of the decision he has made. She looks unreal, her lashes batting up against her eyelids as she looks at him, her legs thin and toned, her stomach and waist curve, like a map designed for his hands. 

"Left drawer" he nods to the brown  bed side  table. She shakes her head, hand at her left arm.

"I didn't want to have kids of my own, when I was mar.....nevermind" she sits up slightly, her cheeks  flushed, he nods slowly, using his knee to rise against her, their weight falling against thick white pillows. He doesn't want to hear the details, just the  cliff notes  of safety. He kisses her again, lips hungry, her hands unbutton his trousers, he uses one of his own to support him while shimmying the black shorts off of her body, admiring the skin he finds underneath. 

"Stop" he sighs as she reaches for a button of his shirt. 

"I've seen them" she mutters, her lips sending shivers down his spine. "when you were shot, in your arrest photos" he starts to shake his head but stops, undoing the first few buttons, she finishes for him, shaking away the crisp white fabric, suddenly they're at the point of no return, her legs against his waist as he hovers over her, perched at the gates of heaven or hell, he hasn't quite decided yet. She runs her burned palm against his back, something about the slightly disturbing action sends him over the edge, he eases himself into her, closing his eyes as he does so.

"Red" she whispers, almost like a prayer as he kisses her, their bodies melting together. He lets his hands roam her body, his fingers finding swollen sensitive skin just beneath her pelvis, she moans, her mouth open, he traces her lips with his own. He imagined this moment more often than he cared to admit, she exceeds all expectations as he feels her clench around him. His grip returns to her waist, moving quickly, a spinning motion lands them in opposite roles, he can look up at her, as her hair bounces against her clavicle, her back arched as she takes as much of him as she can. He runs his hands all over her, cupping her breast in his hand as she increases her speed. He can feel a pleasurable burn build in his stomach. 

"Lizzie" it leaves his throat without hesitation, "Don't stop" and she doesn't. Her nails leaving marks on his chest on their way down, he guides her back to his mouth. Their lips locking as she deepens her grind against his hips, he can feel her body react, small trembles taking over her small frame, he opens his eyes, meeting her blue gaze until her eyelids begin to flutter. He loses himself, their chests pressed together as he cups her full derriere in his hands, their moans are throaty, in sync and fully charged as she collapsed on top of him, his breaths hard and strong. He kisses her neck as they float together in ecstasy, a cloud of pleasure and unspoken words around them.


	6. Chapter 6

"Are you hungry" Red asks, planting small kisses on Liz's shoulder as she flips through the New York Times he  has delivered every morning. An article about a boating accident catches his eye, he scans over it quickly, making a mental note to have Dembe make a few calls later. Liz turns the page, her hair curling at the base of her neck. 

"Not really" her voice is airy and light as she speaks, her arms flexing as she lets the paper drop onto the bedside table, turning her attention back towards him.  She fin ds his lips, her legs riding up over his hips. He lets his hands drift to her hips, smiling as their mouths collide. He mumbles something about churros but she isn't listening, her hands exploring the back of his head. They  make love again, his thumbs kneading circles in her lower back as she climaxes, she can smell his sweat on the pillow in front of her. He kisses her neck, leaving small nibbles as he feels entire body tense and release, his hand gliding down her back as they collapse back into bed. Her blue eyes fight to stay open as he presses his mouth to her forehead. He waits until he can hear the sleep induced whimpers escaping from her mouth before he stands, in desperate need of a shower and cup of coffee. 

He uses a musky body wash, the scent of her leaving him, he watches the suds wash down the drain. He pulls on a white shirt and a pair of tan slacks, tipping a brown fedora over his head, he watches her toss and turn slowly in the bed, the sheets wrapping around her like a second skin, he shuts the door quietly behind him. 

Dembe is at the kitchen island, a mug in one hand, a cell phone in the other. He raises his eyebrows and takes a long sip. 

"I don't need your judgemental silence Dembe" Red begins, pouring his own cup, sliding into the seat. "We have an issue"

"The accident in New York" the dark man speaks, nodding as Red explains the situation. 

"Mr Oliver was competition, I was concerned about Jeremy Palmer, he's much more....impulsive than his mother" Red sighs, taking a long sip of the steaming hot liquid. Dembe nods again. 

"I can have a flight ready in a few hours, will Elizabeth be joining us" Dembe lets a small smile pass between his lips. Red chuckles. 

"yes" he looks towards the door, he pictures her head next to his, on the crisp white sheets of a hotel bed, a black dress embracing her body as they eat a steak over candles. He closes his eyes for a moment, the feel of her hands on his forearms still burning under his skin. He should take her shopping before they leave, give Margot a break from trying to style her for a change. Dembe sits his cup in the sink, dialing a number on the phone before excusing himself outside, leaving Red to daydream about a quiet house by the stream, Liz reading on a large swing, her legs draped over the side while he sips his coffee. 

…

liz  glances into the large windows, the Diane Von Furstenberg belted romper sitting comfortably against her hips. She stops in front of a brightly lit pink shop, racks of black and white clothes lining the walls, she pushes the door open, looking back at Red, who is chatting in quick Spanish with a man selling frozen drinks. She laughs slightly to herself, remembering the tart grapefruit gusher he had given her before. She thumbs through several pairs of high waisted white pants.

She slept with  Reddington . Not once, not even just twice, but over and over again. It should make her feel sick, but instead she feels warm, safe and comfortable. 

"Can I help you" a tall, curvy woman with skin the color of warm caramel smiles at Liz, her long, thick hair pulled tight into a  pony tail . 

"I'm..um...I'm heading back to New York and looking for something warmer and sleeker" she composes herself, clicking her black Versace heels against the floor as she follows the woman to a back corner, several long sleeve black dresses and thick jackets hang on large white hangers. 

"These are our warmer wear, we have many options, Can I measure you and pick some things" she smiles, pulling a pink measuring tape out of the pocket of her black blazer. Liz nods, lifting her arms slightly. 

"Oh, so petite" the employee giggles, she motions towards a large peach colored seat by the fitting rooms while she flits through the racks, lifting something every few seconds and folding it over her arms. 

"My name is Gianna, by the way" she says, a Spanish accent overtaking her words. Liz smiles.

"Hannah" she recites the name on her current ID easily as Gianna unlocks one of the dressing room doors. The woman hangs several garments on the thick metal rack inside the room. 

"Let me know if you want to exchange for a size or need any help" she shuts the door quickly and Liz looks in the mirror, a small hickey visible just above her left breast as she pulls the romper off, only a pair of white lace underwear and a matching bralette covering her as she inspects herself. There are small bruises from where his fingers held to her back, a bite mark over her right hip, she brushes her fingers against it, shivering at the memory of his teeth against her flesh. She pulls over the first set of clothes, a white long sleeve blouse and a pair of tapered black trousers. She looks stronger than she did at the bureau, tougher...deadlier. She peels the clothing off and tries on several more outfits, including a knee length draped bodycon dress in silver. She smiles, holding her hair back to admire the way it fits her body, she hangs them back on the hangers and pushes through the door, smiling at Gianna. 

"Those are nice" Red's voice is velvet behind her as she plucks a pair of black silk panties from the drawers of perfectly folded underwear. She smiles, leaning back against him. He pays for his clothing with a simple black credit card.    


"Thank you" she whispers softly as they exit the store, a large black paper bag at her side. He hands her a large plastic cup, a creamy off white liquid is cold in her hands. 

"Tiger nut horchata, you'll like it" he takes a sip of his own, she watches the straw between his lips, finding herself jealous of an inanimate object. They walk through the streets, stopping to watch children kick a plain soccer ball in the middle of an empty field, he speaks to her about histories and important figures, his lips brushing her ear every so often, her hand finding his and letting go. She doesn't know how much public affection is acceptable between them, but her body feels unbalanced without his. 

A small phone rings in Dembes pocket, she can hear it even though he's nearly 30 feet behind them, leaning against a large tree, he answers it, Red turns around and studies the  mans  face. 

Dembe walks slowly towards the duo, a serious face, even for him planted on his face. He whispers in Red's ears, as he nods along. She lets herself stare off at the children once again, their dirty faces full of sweat and laughter. She lets herself linger on the sadness again, just for the briefest minute, remembering the nursery plans she had, the ultrasound she studied so hard, trying to make out tiny facial features, she closes her eyes before a single salty tear escapes from her. 

"We're going to be leaving sooner than I had anticipated" Red whispers, brushing the hair off her shoulder. She nods once, opening her eyes, he looks her face over with concern on his own. She shakes her head gently and they walk back toward the car. She doesn't speak much on the ride back to the house. 

She stands in the living room, unsure of which bedroom to walk to. Red stays outside with Dembe, she can hear his easy laugh through the heavy doors. The world suddenly feels so suffocating. She unties the center of the romper, climbing the stairs to her bedroom, pulling the clothing away from her and collapsing onto the mattress. She pulls a pair of leather trimmed sweatpants and a black tank top out of the closet before turning the water on in the bathtub, setting the lights on low and letting Still by Daughter fill the tiled room from the black  ipod  she sits on the counter. 

The water is hot, she can feel it bore deep into her muscles, she lets her head sink into it, leaving only her nose and mouth above the water. She takes long breaths, the steam burning her eyes before she shuts them. She smells like almonds and honey when she finally gets out of the tub, laying on the bathroom floor, the towel wrapped around her. She waits to make sure no one is walking up the steps before she lets it out, the ugly sob that had been trapped inside of her all day. It pours out, like tar in her chest, choking her as she cries. She was going to be a mother, an agent, a wife, someone who read books at the library and learned how to cook, and here she is, in a designer towel about to fly to another city to use another name, her best friends  hunting her down. She cries for another five minutes, her knees pulled up to her face, her life running between the tiles in streams. 

…

Red can hear her, the quick exhales of her breaking echoing from behind the bedroom door. He debates going in, his hand pressed to the wooden frame, but she deserves this, to break alone, to scream, to let the darkness out of her. He can't take this away, the feelings bubbling over inside of her. He traces his fingers down the door before turning on his foot and returning downstairs, two small bags sat by the door as he looks over their passports one more time. 

William Grossman and Ameli a Hammond, he traces his thumb over her picture, it's a good one. Her eyes are sparkling, her mouth smiling slightly. He slides them into the brown wallet he keeps in his pants pocket. Rubbing his temples before sitting on the couch. He hears soft footsteps a few minutes later, her hair tossed into a messy ponytail. He smiles. 

"Is it a taught skill? Taking an eternity to get dressed" he laughs, watching her face brighten slightly. 

"Yes, the same school that teaches men to never put the toilet seat down, also teaches women to be perpetually late" she lets her arm bump into his as he stands, escorting her to the Black BMW 6 series waiting in the driveway. She lays her head on his shoulder once they're seated inside, he kisses the top of her head before looking out the window. His hand rests on her thigh as Dembe drives, the sun setting behind them. He watches as exhaustion pulls her eyes shut, her lashes casting shadows against her cheeks. Her hand grips his as they pull into the large air strip, his thumb brushing hers lightly. 

"Just sleep, Lizzie" he mutters against her ear, laying his head against her hair as Dembe exits the car. "just sleep"


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz digs for answers, Red tends to a wound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some bickering, some snuggling, a little weed. 
> 
> The response to this story has been incredible and I'm so thankful for all the positive feedback! Thank you for reading!

"Was that really nec essary" Liz sighs as Red winces in pain, closing the shower door behind him, she holds a thick white towel out in front of her while glancing at the small stab wound  below  his shoulder. His back flexes while he pulls on a pair of soft pants and a white shirt, leaving it unbuttoned for the time being. 

"I don't need a lecture Elizabeth" he grumbles, a slight roll in his eyes as he looks in the mirror, a few deep scratches on his head. "I need a few fingers of whiskey and something medicinal to take this edge off until"  She sighs and walks back towards the kitchen, pouring light brown liquid into a tumbler and removing a few painkillers from a bottle in the bedroom, she hands them to him,  judgement  burning in her eyes. He's on the bed, a pillow behind his back. 

"This isn't quite medicinal enough" he raises his eyebrows, she shakes her head hard and shuts the door. 

"I'm not going to buy you weed, Red" she lets her leg rest against his arm, he traces his fingers over her outer thigh, an amused look on his face. 

"Don't be ridiculous Lizzie, I don't need you to call some teenager to meet in a shady ally, I can have the best stuff down here in 20 minutes" he pulls her hand, her body drifting on top of his, her kisses her neck. "or you could nurse my wounds"

"I don't know if you're worth the trouble" she laughs with her lips against his, her hands on his chest , he winces  slighty  as she traces her fingers across the jagged black stitches keeping his skin together. 

"Tell me what happened" she asks, falling off his chest and onto the bed beside him. He sighs heavily, shaking his head. 

"It's not important, not for you" his face turns grim as he finishes the beverage beside him, swallowing the two pills begrudgingly. 

"It is" she lets her hand rest on top of his chest, the warmth and softness of his skin and hair feel like home. 

"There was a boating accident that caught my interest last week, part of the reason we're here. Do you remember Jeremy Palmer, the lanky, unsavory son of the gun runner we met in Texas" he asks, adjusting himself on the pillow, turning to watch her face as he talks. She nods at him, propping her body under her elbow, he can see down her shirt, her breasts heaving with each breath. 

"Red...." she pulls the material of the thin white  tshirt  higher, her brows furrowing. 

"YOU'RE DISTRACTING ME WITH THOSE THINGS" his hands wave enthusiastically as he half shouts, grimacing as his shoulder flexes. 

"What does Jeremy Palmer have to do with a boating accident" she returns him to the subject at hand. 

"Little to nothing in the long run, he hired a...very skilled man to remove competition from his field. Kristof Oliver, a mild mannered private manufacturer was here on business when his yacht caught fire, at least that's what the headline reads" Red shakes his head, laughing slightly. 

"but that's not what happened" Liz inquisites, brushing her hair back behind her ears, her interest peaked. 

"No. Paolo Martillo, an explosives expert of sorts, a dangerous man, very expensive and very discreet was bought, most likely for Palmers religious extremist agenda. The child is....I've never cared for him. His mother has a delicate hand with business, her son much prefers to scream and shout bigotry for the world to hear. Typical entitled idiot wrapped up in a dirty,  tabacco  chewing package" he sighs, rubbing his forearm, the soreness beginning to kick in. 

"I ran into a few of Palmer's hired help, uncoordinated bastards, but they had surprise on their side" he explains, motioning toward s his arm, s he nods,  thinking quietly for a few moments. 

" How does this effect you" she asks finally, sitting up, her legs crossed. "I mean you knew about Palmer's agenda, so why interfere"

"Because it's bad for business, Lizzie. Palmer is tolerable when he's locked underground hammering out weapons, but when he's sticking his racist nose into other aspects of the arms world he becomes a nuisance, I can't refer my clients to someone who blows people out of the water for having a few better quality rounds" he shrugs, "I'd also prefer to have Martillo on my payroll, you never know when you need a big bang" he laughs, suddenly aware of Liz's presence in his world. Guilt consumes him, he was enjoying it too much, the back and forth, her raised eyebrows and quick questions, it almost felt as though nothing had changed, until the fading tan on her shoulders and dark circles under her eyes reminded him of where he's taken her. They can pretend everything is fine for years, but it never will be. 

"I'm starving" she says after a few minutes, sliding off of the bed, her feet planting against the wooden floors of the room. She flips through a few menus on the bedside table. "Greek or Chinese"

"Lizzie, we aren't bank robbers, we don't need to eat take out, I can have Dembe bring something that isn't in paper boxes" he looks exasperated by her insistence of normalcy. 

"Greek. I could go for a gyro" she smiles, pulling a green light weight  trenchcoat  around her. She shuts the front door with a thud, leaving him to his wounds and an empty glass. 

…

The breeze hits Liz's face as the doorman lets her out, complimenting her jacket as she walks past him. There is a row of cabs and cars parked in front of the hotel, but she takes a hard left and keeps walking, her boots crunching against the wads of rotting leaves scattered on the sidewalks. She preferred Spain to New York, the simplicity of her days. Despite reminding herself that she can't change him, it always shakes her to see the man she spends her nights with remain the infamous Raymond Reddington. She stops by a small park, sitting on a wide metal bench before pulling out the black burner phone Dembe had given her a few days after their arrival. She dials 10 digits, her hands shaking slightly. 

"Liz" a familiar voice gives a surprised answer. 

"Aram, I'm here" she speaks quietly, her eyes darting between the street beside her and the park in front of her. She had arranged to meet him yesterday and had intended on an earlier time but Reddington's bloody ent rance had delayed her plans. 

"I'll be there in a few minutes, I had....company" she hangs up the phone as soon as he's finished speaking. Her heart hammering under her jacket. He was reluctant at first, after leaving the task force he knew he was being monitored. She had remembered a secure email address of his, asking him to pick up a phone before arranging a  meet up . He had files that she wanted to see, about the fire, most of it was retracted, he had explained to her, but there were still a few names, with records and stories. She taps her feet, watching the school children slide and swing. 

She feels someone slide into the seat a few inches away, a dark jacket and jeans. 

"How are you" he asks, nervous energy spilling from his pores. She shrugs in response. It's so good to see him, he looks rested, the twinkle in his eye still apparent even through the fear. 

"I don't know how much you'll be able to get from these, most of the people listed are dead or off the grid" Aram sighs, sitting a stack of tan folders in the space between them. "Have you reached out to anyone else?"

"No" she says blanky, her gaze straight ahead. "Just you. I don't have a lot of friends anymore" sadness envelops her as she explains, letting her face drop for a second. She looks at the clock on her phone, she's been gone for 30 minutes already. 

"It was really good to see you Aram, thank you for this" she grabs the folders off the bench and walks quickly away, looking back for a second to see him lean back in the bench, a deep breath exiting his body. She keeps walking, remorse bubbling inside of her. 

…

"Pass the tabouli, will you" Red asks over the glass table, his fingers brushing Liz's as she slides the plastic container towards him, taking another bite of her salad. He's exchanged the white shirt for a soft black long sleeve sweater, an ache growing between his ears as the pain killers wear off. They eat in silence, only  glacing  at each other occasionally. 

"How was Agent Mojtabi" he asks finally, tossing the remainder of the roasted potatoes into the garbage. His question catches her off guard. He studies her face, concern an anger take equal holds of her smooth skin. 

"Do you have someone following me" she asks angrily, her lips tight as he smiles. 

"Don't be dense Lizzie, of course I do." he laughs, removing two more pills from the orange bottle on the counter. "You're the only thing I care about in this world and New York has a reputation for chewing lovely things up and leaving them in garbage cans" she looks away from him, out the window. 

"I told you I wo nt stop you from finding answers, I just want you to know that if you were able to get into contact with Aram, Ressler will be able to do so eight times fast, you don't have a badge to fall back on" he moves towards her, his hand resting between her shoulders. She's embarrassed, he can see the heat creep up around her neck. He stays for a moment, waiting for her to speak but she doesn't, so he opens the balcony doors, taking a seat in the black chair outside. 

He hears her move a few minutes later, the sound of dishes clanking in the sink, her phone connecting to the stereo system before she falls onto the couch, the familiar sound of papers ruffling. 

_ Falling off of the ledge, did you leave me for dead, fell right off of the ledge will I find you again _

He wrinkles his nose slightly at her taste in music, the indie guitar  pluckings  not at all what he's used to. He removes the neatly rolled joint from his pocket. While she was out playing as a spy, he was having Dembe fetch him something stronger to dull the fire in his arm. He takes a long drag, blowing the smoke out towards the sunset. He runs his hand over the top of his head, noting the sharp stubbles, he needs to shave it soon. He takes another drag, the pain subsiding quickly, the air feels cool against his face, he kicks off the black loafers on his feet and props them against the iron rail keeping him from plummeting to his death. He turns his head, glimpsing at the brunette sat on the couch, a folder open in her hands, a glass of wine beside her. God she's beautiful, he watches her face change as she reads, flipping between pages quickly, absorbing information as  quickly  as she breathes. He's mesmerized by her, more than he cares to admit, even to himself, even while stoned. 

_ I know times  movin  slow but if you wait  , it can save what you love _

He finishes the joint once her song stops, using the wall to help him stand as he smashes down into the hotel provided ashtray. He closes the door behind him, standing out of her sight for a second, Listening to her frustrated breaths as she slams the folder down onto the coffee table. 

"Goodnight, Lizzie" he calls, flicking the kitchen light off as he walks to the bed, collapsing onto it gently, his headache easing away. She looks up from her hands in defeat. Leaving the lamp on as she follows the path his feet had taken a few moments before. The space between his arm and mattress feels like it was made for her, warm and sof t, the pressure of him keeps her from flinging herself out the window. She eases out of her pants, letting her thighs press into his abdomen. He turns his head, tilting with interest. He lifts her shirt over her head, his hands pausing to brush his thumbs against her breasts, they react to his touch instantly, she shivers as he lowers his mouth to them, she moans softly in response, his hand tracing down her stomach to the soft silk of her panties. She tries to keep her head straight, her eyes open, she wants to look at him but she can’t, all she can do is bask in his touch as he kisses her ribs, rubbing gentle circles on the most delicate parts of her. His tongue replaces his hands after an eternity, her breathing quickens as his tongue accelerates, she can feel them sync up. 

"Red" she pants, "Red kiss me" and he does, his lips locking around hers as she guides the soft pants down his legs, pulling him into her, she throws her head back as he devours the soft skin she exposes, his teeth dragging against her jaw as she quivers beneath him. His hands find her hips, sweat begins to form between his brows as he looks into her eyes, the ocean of blue mirroring his own desire. He loses himself, her body clenched against his, he kisses her fervently, his hands running through her hair as a small shudder leaves his mouth. He could kiss her until he dies, what a way to go. 

She falls asleep on his chest, her breath warm against him. He brushes his lips with his fingers, the taste of her still lingering. He closes his own eyes, the aching returning to his arm, but he'd rather cut it off than move away from her. He rests his cheek on her hair, unable to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Http://Agent-Kissington.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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